Other People
by Lynny M
Summary: A landslide delays travel plans for a pair of trainers.


A trainer meets a trainer. Pretty straightforward, right? I imagine their lifestyle ends up with a lot of one-off conversations. You meet a fellow trainer out in the sticks, you move on, you forget them. Or maybe you don't. What the hell do I know?

So this fic is an experiment, kind of. I have a particular friend, name of Pete, who has become a good friend and a great colleague over the years. Pokémon comes up pretty frequently in our conversations, just below Zelda and dick jokes. He has written up his own fics in the pokémon universe, as have I, and we've created our own characters to flesh out these universes. It was always an idea of mine to have them cross paths at some point. I figured it would be a healthy challenge. Prove I could do it, or something like that.

Tasting notes: OC's, my own wildly personal take on the pokémon universe, tampons. Obligatory complaint about how ffnet has terrible formatting rules.

–

Other People

–

It was on all the phones, 'dexes, and radios early enough that most trainers, if they had wanted to, could have simply returned to Lavender to wait it out. The weather report, voiced with an inhumanly-pitched pre-recorded tenor, was punctuated by news of a route closure:

"Eastern Central Kanto." A pause. "National Ranger Services have closed–" Another pause. "–Rock Tunnel East–" And again. "Due to landslide." And on and on it went: "Teak Mountain East–to– Route 10– closed to all traffic…"

They were just a few hours away from the foot of the trail. This was the real bitch–trekking back to Lavender on foot–neither of them carried bikes–would take at least a day, maybe two. A waste of time and resources, definitely. The best they could hope for was a short delay. A night or two in a relatively forgiving environment wouldn't hurt anyone, and with any luck the NRS would pronounce the terrain passable in that timeframe.

Still, he figured he'd ask.

Kara had been good enough to skillet them both a breakfast: cured ham over prepackaged brown rice, and each a tin bottle of citrus breakfast soda that advertised its vitamin content on the label. She had set their radio on a tree stump and allowed it to go through several cycles of its report. "–oday. Eastern Central Kanto–National Ranger Services have closed–Rock Tunnel East–"

Sitting in the unzipped flap of his tent, lacing his boots, he said, "I figure we'll just want to wait it out. We don't need anything in town?"

She was scraping off the skillet into the dirt. "No. We can just stop at the Rest and wait."

"'Eugh." He made a sound that was neither an agreement nor disagreement. Trainer Rests were alright places, but they often had all the charm of public campgrounds, and forced socialization was pretty much unavoidable. One might make an argument that a trainer was a trainer, but people were frequently annoying, no matter their creed or personal philosophy. If life had taught him anything, it was this.

But how bad could it be, he figured.

They broke camp lazily, having nowhere to be and all day to get there. The radio was one of the last items left out. Jay turned to see Kara scoop it up and prepare to clip it to her backpack.

"What'd that say?"

"You heard," she said, leaning back to pop her spine against the weight of her pack. "They said it will be above 40 today."

"_Christ_." He slung his pack over his shoulder and wriggled it into place on his back. Not that he needed a weather report to know that it would be miserably hot today; the sun had only started his climb and already sweat was forming on his brow and dampening the front of his shirt. That was something the Rest had to its name: showers. Maybe not the best showers in the world, but better than a bucket of stagnant pond water or a cold stream lined with tiny muscle shells.

He repressed a memory of slicing his foot open on such a shell on one of his early journeys. Since then, he declined to walk barefoot wherever the ground was suspect.

They headed out.

–

The hillside was sporadically forested. Each cluster of trees and bushy deciduous flora pocketed in heat and humidity alike. Multitudes of tiny insects buzzed in the foliage. Jay swatted a gnat that had landed on his forearm. The familiar call of a pidgey reminded him of his ultimate objective, and he reached back to confirm the surplus of pokéballs in his pack, feeling their inorganic shape and weight. There had been a sale at the Lavender 'mart, but it still cost them a sizable chunk of change. 'Balls were pricey little contraptions, all but necessary, yet prone to breaking.

Making conversation, Jay said: "Even if I don't make a catch, it will be good to get Rush into the mountains. The type disadvantage will take him down a peg–force him to toughen up."

"He has powerful musculature. Growlithe are a working breed, after all." Kara's mode of training–when she participated in the sport– was often based on tautologies and broad concepts. "He'll hate it at first, but restricting the elemental is as just as important as loosing it in many organized plays."

"Where do you get this stuff?"

"Color commentators and magazines, Jay." She stepped over some leafy bramble and nearly stumbled, but caught herself with an elegant shuffle of her feet.

–

The Rest was a modest little faux cabin not a mile distant from the East Rock Tunnel trail. It was meant to look rustic but was undeniably utilitarian; the white caulked windows were beginning to grey with spider webs and dust. The earth outside the entrance, and for some distance around, had all the tell-tale signs of repeated battles waged by passing trainers.

A handful of travelers were already lounging about in the yard and in the shade of the porch overhang. The two of them paused to catch a breath, dotted with sweat, completely overheated–and then, having no reason to stall any further, they headed toward the cabin. Jay noted one or two errant looks from their peers on the way in, and did his best to ignore them.

The doors were open in the summer heat, and the inside was no different in temperature than the outside. They found the Parks employee leaning back in his chair, looking bored out of his skull despite his leafing through a National newspaper. He nodded toward the keyboard and indicated that they could register themselves. It was more or less a formality, but they liked to have your ID–for funding.

His job undoubtedly sucked. Here he was–just out of school, more than likely– out in the hills, making sure the place didn't burn down, cleaning the latrines. His attitude towards the whole thing was barely noticeable. He had checked out long ago.

There was no fee for registered trainers, but a donation was strongly suggested. Kara pulled some bills from a pocketbook and placed them in the box; the ranger may have said thanks, but by then they were already moving into the common area, tired and antisocial.

Jay let his backpack drop to the floor and then slid down the wall to rest on it. All the others seemed to be outside, and he was grateful for the privacy. He flipped open his phone to look at the time, as if this was crucial information.

"I'm already bored." He admitted.

Kara set her pack down more carefully, taking care not to bang the skillet and the already dented saucepan on the musty hardwood. "Well. Take a nap. There'll be a campfire and midnight battles. I can tell. Did you notice all the kids?"

She meant people their own age.

"I can't sleep with all these people running around."

"Suit yourself." She moved her backpack to use it as a makeshift pillow.

–

Though he could've sworn he never once closed his eyes, Jay found himself awakening suddenly some indeterminate amount of time later. Sleeping against the wall had put an awful crick in his back. He straightened up and brought the room into focus.

A group of trainers had gathered on the opposite side. They were involved in a card game, and used the floor as their playing surface. Jay could not identify the game until one of them, a healthy–looking girl in a flat ponytail, confidently declared bullshit.

He was about to get up and exit the situation when Kara appeared from outside with Rush following behind her. She had filled a kerchief with a selection of unripe apricorns. Thomas rode among them, the bushy leaves of his floral self covering all but his beady little eyes. He was silent. Oddish didn't have much in the way of vocal cords, but they made up for it with boundless energy.

"I took the liberty of letting him out." She said casually. Rush walked in a circle around her feet and then settled next to his master. He was naturally very warm and not the best companion on a hot day, but Jay reached out and petted him nonetheless. Kara set an apricorn at the pokémon's feet; he liked to gnaw on them. It pacified his aggressive nature to some degree.

"Great. That'll keep him occupied."

"They're all for him. Unless we want to boil the cores and eat them later."

"Gross." It was a delicacy he did not agree with.

"Are you coming outside?"

"Later, maybe." He shrugged noncommittally. It was all the same to him. They had nowhere to go.

Kara left to explore. Rush stayed behind. Unsure of what to do–it seemed too early to shower, too early to eat–he made himself look busy by taking out the radio and turning it on. It came on at the volume it was previously set at, a burst of noise that caused the card players to look his way and then back at each other. He turned it down so that it was hardly audible and listened. He hoped the report would change and the route would be reopened, but he knew there was no practical chance of it happening. They would be stuck here overnight at the least.

Some weeks past he had picked up an issue of Trainer's Quarterly at a center in Cerulean. He had already been through it several times–he needed to pick up a new one–but he could always go through it again. He rummaged around in his bag for it and began flipping through.

He was revisiting an article on the pros and cons of using tension braces when an unfamiliar patter of paws hijacked his attention. Rush stood eagerly.

The girl from the card game stood above him, holding the lead for an impressive Ninetales. It was nicely harnessed in a tooled leather job. She stuck out her hand to shake. "That your starter?"

Jay shook her hand. He wondered why she was trying to socialize with him. Well–they shared a type in starters. Maybe that was enough.

"Rush has been with me from day one," he confirmed. "I take it yours as well?" Then, as an afterthought: "Name is Jay."

"Keiko. Since day one," she echoed. "She's a good girl. People can say what they want about fire, but even when I was little, I could handle it–the fire, I mean."

"Ah. Yeah, it's a gamble for the inexperienced–but so is any type, if you stop to think about it."

"Headed back west?"

Jay nodded, reminded himself not to give away too many details. "We're circling back for some Minor league stuff."

"Right, right." She said, a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. "Cerulean, then?"

"Yeah."

She nodded awkwardly, as if looking for something to say. Then, more assertively, she leaned to shake hands with him again and said: "Good to meet you. See you around, then."

Jay watched her leave, curious as to her purpose.

–

The radio reports gave him no hope of an early reopening, though this was what he had expected. Estimates pointed toward late the next day or early the morning after. But as the afternoon rolled on, he found it to be not quite as unpleasant as he thought it might be.

Kara, having a sense for these sorts of things, had been right; before the sun had even partially begun to dip below the horizon, several trainers had fashioned a fire pit and were preparing kindling. Jay knew from experience that they would eventually all gather around to share their dinners and life stories and philosophies. Pokémon people, trainers especially, tended to be very communal.

Not wanting to go on without contributing his share, Jay set up the little gas stove, lit the burners, and set the saucepan to boil. The last of their basmati rice would go with just about anything, especially if there was a form of curry or stew around.

Contended by the evening air and the myriad aromas of outdoor cooking, he settled on the ground and listened. He noticed his acquaintance some distance away, conversing with a bruiser who had a machop busting firewood.

She obviously shared heritage with the mainland, but the resemblance was barely skin deep. He tried to composite her parents: Mother Japanese, father something a bit less certain, Anglo, or some sort of Germanic.

She shared the culturally confused look that native Kantonites tended to carry. It fit her, though, like it did most everyone from the region. It was almost build–your–own, and personal style usually depended on which TV stations you could pick up.

He pondered this while turning off the heat and emptying the rice into the boil. Lidded tightly, it should cook through on its own.

Kara appeared at his side shortly thereafter. She had taken Rush and her Thomas around the hillside. She no longer seriously trained, and lately she had taken up a more domestic route, ensuring that Rush got his exercise and ate healthy. Thomas got along by photosynthesis, but she trimmed the dead foliage and kept him watered just the same.

Rush licked his master's hand eagerly. Jay pushed on his back to make him sit and stirred the rice.

"I met one of our bunkmates," He said, and pointed at Keiko with the spoon. "The ninetales is hers. I guess she was interested in Rush."

"Or you," Kara said, and then laughed as Jay shot her a look. But he softened quickly and shrugged.

"I have no idea. I was trying to read at the time."

As if she were aware of being the subject of conversation, the girl turned and looked across the yard at them both. With an easy countenance she made her way over to them, nodded to Jay, and offered her hand to Kara, who shook warmly.

"Evening. Hi. I don't believe we've met. Keiko."

"Kara."

"Charmed," Keiko said, and she exhaled as if the walk over had spent her somewhat. "We're thinking of organizing a fight after dinner. Care to join?"

She looked to Jay first, who shrugged, and then to Kara, who hugged herself sheepishly and said that she hadn't been competing.

"Maybe, then," She confirmed to Jay.

The rice had finished. He removed it from the heat and un-lidded it to keep it from overcooking. "Want some?"

"Oh, no. Thanks."

"Gah," Kara stood and dusted herself off. "Hold that thought. I have to pee."

By this point the sky had turned its darkest shade of pink and was quickly fading into the warm blues favored by summer. The air was noticeably sweet. The bonfire went up to a smattering of cheers from the more excitable trainers. Keiko look toward it and then back to Jay.

"Hey," she said suddenly, stooping to his level, becoming more confidential, digging into the ground with her hiking boots. "Listen–I hope this isn't out of line, but–are you two…" she motioned vaguely with her hands. "…together?"

Jay blinked. He wasn't surprised, really – since his school days, there had always been a regular stream of people who were constantly looking for relationships. Maybe they were kids who never figured out that what they saw on TV wasn't applicable in real life, or maybe they equated sex with normalcy, as if they needed to dog after it to prove they were human.

Whatever it was, he was used to seeing it, and yet it never ceased to amaze him–it was not appropriate, in his mind, to approach a stranger in the wilderness and try to hit it off.

He wouldn't lie, though. "We travel together. But we're not an item, if that's what you mean."

"Oh," she said, standing, thrusting her hands in her pockets. "Cool."

Jay saw movement in the corner of his eye and noticed the Parks employee photographing the landscape, embarking on what must have been a hobby.

–

The night that followed was stiflingly hot. They all lay on top of their sleeping bags and sweated through their clothes.

Jay could not remember sleeping for more than 30–minute intervals, in between which he lay staring at the ceiling, much too warm and consequently miserable. Few of his fellow campers seemed to fare much better, except for one nerdy–looking boy whose badge declared him a ranger–in–training; he snored peacefully through the night.

The morning was drastically cooler. Jay knew there was some brand of science regarding the dip of temperature upon sunrise, but it seemed nonsensical to him, and when he awoke, shivering, he cursed the natural world and pined for climate–controlled residences.

They fed themselves granola bars and more citrus soda. The remnants of the previous night's battles and social mixing were spread across the field; the land was charred, gouged, trampled. Extinguished fires littered the area. It was a sign of time well spent, all things considered.

Having another day ahead of them, most of his peers took to cleaning out their tents and taking inventory of their gear. Here and there the trainers were unfurling the rolls carried atop their backpacks, spreading them out, doing their best to remove all the dead leaves and tracked–in dirt. Kara removed the first–aid kits and emergency gear: three space blankets, iodine tablets, and a set of flares.

Their pokémon wandered about and smelled each other.

As the morning progressed, the sun whitened; all traces of haze disappeared and the clouds boiled off. The sky was blue and featureless, and perceptually it exacerbated the heat. Jay was examining kakuna husks left hanging in the fork of a tree when the ninetales sped past him with a backpack in its teeth. It shook it like it was prey and spilled the contents. Upon seeing him, it sat abruptly and grinned, all of its tails wagging at once in an elegant swish.

He looked at it for a long moment and then approached. It did not seem threatened by this, so he patted it on the head and lifted the pack away.

He bent reflexively to pick up her belongings and found himself staring at a screentoned graphic of a delicate blonde in blue satin underthings. He realized after a moment that it was a soft-core piece. Mildly distracted and somewhat embarrassed, he collected another—a more restrained collection of gentle women in furisode—and another, a nude with her back to the viewer. These he slipped back into her pack, along with a few issues of TQ, some hotel soaps, and a box of tampons.

A sudden feeling of guilt struck him. It wasn't really his place to be picking up her things—he didn't know her. He had done it automatically as if the mess was his to clean up.

"Augh, you little asshole!" She was breathless with the effort of chasing her stolen goods, looking half-finished. Her jeans didn't fit right and her shirt was threadbare to the point of showing the color of flesh beneath it. Her hair was frayed and loose in such a way as to suggest she had slept on it.

She gazed down at her pokémon with a vapid expression. "You're terrible, you know that?" She said, sighing. "God." She fumbled as she attached the lead to the harness, no doubt as a form of punishment.

"Here's your pack."

She took it with her free hand, acknowledging that it had been torn open with the scantest expression of disappointment. "Thanks," she said, and she seemed honestly grateful. She led her ninetales away, sauntering back to the cabin in a way that suggested she was rather used to its mischief.

–

The radio was turned on again, in hopes of hearing that their route had been opened, and though this was not the case, they were rewarded with the possibility of an opening the following day. Jay had never seen the public works in action, but the ranger–in–training said they utilized machoke and rhydon, and sometimes onix. In the end, he explained, it was often easier than moving machinery, especially in the case of smaller disasters.

They discussed this and various other aspects of the Ranger Corps; Jay had always felt a certain tug towards their organization, though since his boyhood it had always been training that brought out true excitement in him. The ranger–in–training held the opposite to be true.

"Training is entertainment. It's a soap opera. I love a good match myself, you know—but it's not all about that. It can't be." The inflection in his voice changed slightly; his belief in this matter was apparently ardent. "The industry is large enough…the marketing would have you believe that training is ultimate expression of the relationship between monster and man. It is not." After a moment he added, "No offense."

Jay shook his head to indicate that it was not a problem, and drank deeply from a disposable water bottle. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Kara had appeared behind him, sat cross-legged on the ground.

"We've been invited out," She reported.

"What, our new best friend?"

She borrowed his water bottle and took a small sip, shrugging. "It's not so strange, is it? People get lonely. Most of us travel alone. You used to travel alone."

He paused and then squinted at her in consideration. "What are we doing?"

"Head downhill a bit. See if we can't scare anything up. A little wilderness training, something harmless. I don't know."

He stared out at nothing in particular and then looked back to her. "Yeah," he said suddenly. "Yeah, I'm game."

There was not much needed in the way of getting ready: he threw on his backpack and released Rush from his pokéball; Kara wrapped her hair in a kerchief and placed Thomas in her vest pocket. They joined up with the 'new best friend' at the edge of the clearing, where she had been vigorously throwing a tennis ball–like a pitcher at the mound–for the benefit of her ninetales. Let loose as it was, it was quite impressive: leanly muscled, fierce…conditioned, Jay realized. Formidable.

She grinned happily at their approach and ceased her throwing. "Right on," She said, and directed the ninetales with a series of commands. Bristling with excitement, it did its best to fall in line at her side. As they walked into the brush she kept on top of its fidgeting by tapping on its nose.

"So where you from–if you don't mind my asking?"

"Viridian."

"No way." She laughed abstrusely. "We used to get our mail from there."

They passed beneath the foliage of healthy trees, through shafts of sunlight and swarms of tiny insects. At Kara's direction–she had seen a burrow the other day and suspected a den of sandshrew–they climbed over a small rise of amassed vines and brier. Kara thought sandshrew were cute, and intended to catch one if she could. She had never seen them in the wild before.

"You doing the League thing, right? Getting your Gym badges?"

Jay was somewhat distracted by the path they walked. "Last one I took was Vermillion." He paused, considering. "Been a while. Celadon's next, I guess."

"I like Vermillion," A certain quality of dreaminess entered her voice. "But Celadon…Celadon is so much better. It's a real city, for one thing."

"I want to see the gym," Kara said, taking a large step over some half–buried rocks. "I saw some pictures of it on public television. All gardens."

"It's _beau_tiful. And if you study under Erika, you also have to study ikebana. All those trainers moonlight in flower arrangement. Actually, you go in there–it's almost like training is second or third on the agenda. You have to ask, you know. They acted like they didn't know why I was there."

"You fought Erika?"

"Just this last winter. I've been meaning to move on, but…Celadon was a tough battle. Really tough. I checked my team into the Center hospital afterwards, just to make sure everything was ok. Fluids, x-rays, blood-work." She turned toward Jay as she walked. "Your type advantage. Don't let it lull you into a false sense of security. They're all quite prepared."

Jay could sense something genuine in this. It had become apparent that she was no casual trainer; she took her career–that's what it would be–very seriously. He nodded to indicate his understanding.

"Of course, once I had the badge, it was nice. I visited for tea and I got to see some of the girls do their flower arrangement."

A small flock of spearow flew out of the foliage, dipped low, and hid in an equally leafy tree across the way. The ground was pocked with stones and roots, grassy in some areas and bare in others. They had not been walking for very long–they were all used to hiking–but warm as it was they were all sweating and pitted. They crested a slope, Rush and the ninetales hopping doggishly over tree root terraces, and found temporary relief in the shade and relative flatness of a little grove of trees.

"There it is," Kara said, pointing. Keiko put a finger to her lips to suggest silence.

The burrow was dug near the base of a thick tree, a neat little home for whatever might live inside. Kara looked at it, and Jay recognized her uncertainty. For some time now she had typically been an onlooker, and would have to remember the sport as she went along. Regaining her confidence, though, she reached back and grabbed a pokéball. Thomas remained in her shirt pocket.

Jay hung back, as did their friend. She heeled her ninetales and watched, quietly, with a marked degree of interest.

Kara crept forward, ever slowly, until she stood just before the burrow. Knees bent, she tried to peer inside. Unable to discern anything, she leaned in further and further until her face was just before the hollow. She squinted.

Something burst forth from within, screeching. A flurry of yellow sent her stumbling backwards, and she hit the ground back-first with a little yelp. In half a second more the fat little sandshrew found traction and ran off wildly, still screeching.

–

Her injuries looked worse than they really were. Sandshrew may have been juvenile and somewhat docile compared to their latter form, but they still had claws made for moving earth. She'd been wearing shorts, and in a few quick swipes had been left with deep scratches on both legs – thick lacerations – and some lesser ones on her forearms.

The rabble of trainers at the Rest looked on as they sat her on the porch of the cabin, turning their heads every so often and whispering about nothing. Jay had tied up the wounds with gauze in an attempt to lessen the bleeding. It was a triage job; they traveled back slowly, directly, supporting her between them as she limped along. She laughed at herself, more than a little embarrassed; she was unable to hide her discomfort.

Jay returned from the cabin with a cold pack. He punched it to get it working and found Keiko already dressing the wounds with surgical pads and tape. At that moment he found himself wondering as to her intentions, but in this situation there was really nothing to the thought. She was simply in her element. An empty bottle of wound wash lay on the ground next to her.

"I have a sandslash, you know." She was saying. "But they're not quite as cute." She winked.

She stood and moved aside for Jay, who offered Kara the cold pack and a bottle of water. He had found a single–use packet of aspirin and pulled it from his pocket, handed it to her gingerly.

"Well," she said. "I at least got to see one, sort of."

Jay looked at the bandaging with an expression of discomfort, and perhaps regret. He could not stop wondering if, given an inch deeper, they might have had a far worse situation on their hands. The licensing process League trainers had to go through required a number of first–aid courses, for both their sake and the sake of their pokémon, but he had forgotten the majority of this information. He admitted to himself that if she had been bleeding out, he might not have known how to stop it.

"Sandshrew aren't usually that fierce," Keiko remarked out of nowhere. "In my experience."

Jay cooked one of their freeze-dried rations over the stove; they had not had lunch and it was near enough to dinner that he thought he would coalesce the two. They deserved something more substantial than rice or canned ham, so he chose a bag of chicken stew and reconstituted it with a bottle of water. As it boiled he kept one eye on Kara, who took to reading his old magazine and periodically checking her bandages. Their friend disappeared after a few quick words, and she was not around when he served up their meal.

They ate without much comment. It was surprisingly good stuff, but expensive, and they didn't carry a lot of it around for that reason. He gave the bowl to Rush, who licked it cleaned and wagged his tail violently. Kara did not appreciate the idea of eating after an animal.

"Don't forget to wash that," She said reprovingly. He assured her he wouldn't.

He stayed with her for a while more but at one point she waved him away, telling him that she could look after herself, so he went to wash the dishes at an outdoor spigot. It was nowhere near dark but the light was yellowing; the travelers were making their preparations for tomorrow, when they would resume their hike through Rock Tunnel and the ridgeline.

Jay intended, fully, to insist that they return to Lavender, where she could heal. They could head out in a week or two, restocked, and in the meantime he could just work out the team at the local gym. But he knew that she would argue.

Maybe he could convince her to stay a day or two extra.

He stacked the dishes, set them in the grass, cupped the water with his hands and splashed his face with it, rinsed his hair.

"They got showers for that, you know."

Knowing full well who it was, he still looked up reflexively; found her standing with a plastic bag of toiletries in one hand and her tennis shoes in another. She had herself just showered and thrown her old clothes back on. "Of course, they're not that great. How's she doing?"

"She'll be fine." He shrugged somewhat awkwardly, pinned by the knowledge that it was not he that she wanted. But she had not been forward in this matter, and in fact seemed perfectly harmless, if just a bit lonesome. Looking at her then, he noticed her in entirety, signs of a life beyond what he had bothered to consider. She was human, and had her own reasons for doing things, no doubt.

"It was a good time until she found the sandshrew," She said. She chewed on her lip, nodded, and he nodded back.

"You're heading up the trail tomorrow?" It was the only relevant thing he could come up with.

She continued nodding.

"I'm thinking we should wait. But she won't agree."

The nodding picked up a bit, finally ceased. "Have her wait. It's a good idea."

They parted ways then–"See you around," she said, somewhat flatly–and Jay returned with clean dishes and wet hair. He pondered Kara's earlier remark, and granted her perspective: people got lonely. The need for companionship drove everyone, on various levels and in various ways. It was true of him as well, though he still found her methods strange.

He didn't figure he would see her around, not after she left for Rock Tunnel. But then he supposed it was always a possibility.

–


End file.
